Appearance Deceiving
by Maid Of Many Names
Summary: An unexpected occurrence in Saruman’s creation of Uruk-Hai, has some interesting consequences for the fellowship.
1. Prologue

Title: Appearance Deceiving  
Author: Maid Of Many Names  
Ranting: PG-13 (may change in later parts)  
Disclaimer: It belongs to Tolkein. I'm making no money and don't have any to begin with. 

Author's Note: This is *very* AU. I plan on sticking to the movie until the point where Boromir tries to take the ring. From there, events will depart from the books and future movies. I hope people enjoy! 

Summary: An unexpected occurrence in Saruman's creation of Uruk-Hai, has some interesting consequences for the fellowship.

  
Prologue 

His experiment was a success. Out of the fifty birthing chambers, had emerged forty nine Uruk-Hai. Terrible in their perfection of his dark craft, they had bound themselves into an unstoppable force. Saruman knew that his master was pleased with the experiment, but he was not yet satisfied. All off the Uruk-Hai should have emerged by now and yet one chamber remained silent and motionless. His magic told him the creature within was alive and whole. There was no reason he could see for this delay. The slight blot on his perfection was intolerable. Abruptly, he ordered the cringing orcs to cut the flow of life giving nutrients. If the creature within did not respond to the threat, then it was better off dead. 

Moments passed and still the chamber was unchanged. As he was about to leave in disgust, there was a ripple within. Saruman murmured with approval. Black claws shredded the membrane that sealed the creature within. As it rose, with its back turned to him, the attendant orcs began to below and howl in distress. Frowning, Saruman wondered if this creature was malformed. Growled out and order to the newly birthed Uruk-Hai in the tongue of Mordor, Saruman let loose a cry of his own as it turned towards him. 

"Female!" 

Such an event was inconceivable. There were meant to be no female Uruk-Hai. All of his spells and wards were supposed to prevent it. The creation of female Uruk-Hai was not planned for quite some time. With female Uruk-Hai, Sauron might begin to think he did not need Saruman's services. That was something Saruman had planned carefully to avoid. Now those plans were destroyed. In a rage he pointed his staff at the newly born creature and sent it crashing into the wall. If Sauron found out about the female, then he could quickly turn expendable. The faintly pitiful form of the female was now sprawled unceremoniously on the floor. The three attending orcs cringed as he looked at them. They knew their fate. With short bursts of power, the orcs were dead. 

Using his power again, Saruman began to guide the unconscious female's body down into the bowls of the tower. Following her levitating form, Saruman considered what to do. With the attending orcs dead, the female's existence was unknown. Carefully, Saruman locked heavy manacles in place. The strong metal chains would keep her in place. At his leisure he could study exactly how the female had come into being. In the mean time, there were far more important things to be concerned with. 

  
* * * 

Once comforting and life giving, the wet warmth had turned deadly. Thrashing and struggling, newly discovered limbs shredded the thick membrane that would have slowly smothered away precious life. Lurching upright by instinct, eyes focused on the almost yellow eyes set in deep sockets. Howls of surprise fell from ragged lips. The deep voice of the one instinctively known to be the master, rang forth. Orders in the rough tones of Modor commanded obedience and the newly born creature turned to face its master. 

"Female!" 

The newly birthed Uruk-Hai blinked in confusion. Was that what it was? Slowly... her... mind was clearing of panic and thought was becoming clear. Of all the knowledge that had been placed in her mind, there contained nothing of being female. As she tried to puzzle out her maker's anger, the surrounding orcs gibbered and snarled. Her thoughts were brought to a halt as the master leveled his crystal tipped staff and an unseen force propelled her into the wall. Her head hitting with a sickening crack, darkness robbed her of consciousness. 


	2. Chapter 1

Part 1

Bone numbing cold pierced the haze of unconsciousness. Her second waking was no less violent and painful as the first. The cold that seeped persistently from the flagstones had robbed her warmth, and she was dangerously cold. Her body shook with the effort to warm itself. Her head ached and pounded with the slightest movement. Confusion and fear sickened her as she tried to understand. Was being female so terrible that her maker had to punish her? Or had she done something wrong? Slowly her body warmed and she noticed the metal restraints fastened around her feet. The chains led to the wall and were securely bolted into the stone.

After realizing her chained state, a wave of regret filled her. Somehow she had failed her master. If she was being punished, then she would bear it with humility. Hours passed and the intense cold and darkness become ever more dense and suffocating. Her resolve was slowly worn away in the darkness. It brought back memories of how she had fought to rise as the waters that once had sustained her turned deathly. Her claws bit into her palms as she forced herself not to start howling. The primitive instinct so strongly developed within her, demanded she run, to fight, to be free of the terrifying darkness. Primitive fears fought like demons within her mind. Reason barely held.

Sleep and wakefulness blended together in a haze of never ending fear. It was the flicker of light from the master's staff and the torch her carried, that brought her instantly to full awareness. Robes luminous in the purity of the white light, her master entered the room. As quickly as her cramped limbs would allow her, she prostrated herself before him. Her face pressed to the floor, she waited for any sign that he would forgive her. There was nothing but the faint sound of his breathing. The cold of the floor began to numb her extremities and still yet nothing. The itch over her skin told her that he was staring at her. For what sign, she did not know.

"Get up," the cold voice ordered.

Scrabbling to comply, she risked glancing up at her master. His face revealed nothing. Quickly her gaze fell to the floor. A low chanting from her creator made her skin prickle. All to clearly she could remember the spike of panic that had ripped through her as she had been flung into the wall. Such powers were beyond her ken.

The first wave of pain came unexpectedly. Her body jerked and rippled with the wave. She barely had time to react before another followed. It felt as if she was being turned inside out one inch at a time. The cold face of the master looked down at her unfeelingly. As she writhed and choked in pain, he did nothing. Hurt and misery mixed with the pain. She had done nothing. Why did the master do this to her? If he punished her for something, what slight she had committed was beyond her comprehension. Fresh waves brought answers no nearer. What seemed like hours passed and then finally the pain ended.

"You are the flaw in what is otherwise a perfect work for the Lord Sauron. I will learn all I must so that your stain shall not spread," Saruman spoke and left. 

Her first taste of humiliation was as ashes in her mouth. The master had reviled her. She deserved to be locked away. Even as she thought it, she felt a defiant flair of refusal. Was she truly flawed? Less that the perfection her master demanded? If she was less than perfect, did it matter? Her eyes dropped to look at her hands. The darkness made it near impossible to see, even with the torch, but her eyes were keen. When her eyes could not see, her memory filled in. Wicked black claws tipped her fingers. Already they had proved their worth. The fingers themselves were long and nimble but also strong. Her arms were sleek with muscle. In the dark she could feel their contours. Her legs too were long and able. Naked as she was, her body was bare to the eye. She knew nothing of being female, but she could find, nor remember, nothing particularly repulsive to her gaze. The sticky fluid that had been in the birthing chamber had clung to her skin and had dried. Surely that wasn't what the master had meant.

The master had been angry because she was female. Was being female so wrong? Again defiance flared. Anger was quick in its wake. She had done nothing. She could not help the way she was made. If her form displeased the master, then he was to blame. He had made her. Horror bubbled up at her disloyal thoughts. Such thoughts were beyond wrong. Everything she knew told her how wrong it was. The master was beyond reproach by creatures such as her. The master was perfect. It was then that she realized that she knew nothing more than what the man before her had placed in her mind. What was there, told her that it was good and that was all she needed to know. As much as her mind told her this, she could not let go of her disquiet over the fact. If she knew nothing other than what the master wished, how could she know anything for sure?

* * *

Saruman stalked away from the dungeon. The failure to find any clue to why the last Uruk-Hai was female galled him. The sniveling creature was trying his patience. Perhaps it would be wise to simply forget about it and let it starve to death. His better judgement quickly won over his temper. If he was to make more Uruk-Hai for his master, then he had to know how to avoid such complications. His continued life depended upon it. Looking out of a close by window, he could see the orcs continued work. The haze of fires and dust tainted the horizon. The sunset turned the sky into blood.

* * *

Time brought yet another discomfort to her situation. Hunger cared not if she slept or if she was awake. Dreams of food she had never tasted plagued her mind as she slept. Thoughts of sustenance filled her mind while she shivered. Thirst had tormented her until she licked moisture that had condensed on the cold stone walls. Twice more the master had come. Twice more pain had sent her contorting on the ground. Those times were longer than the first. During those time he had lost his temper and sent her crashing into the walls. She no longer groveled when he came. Instead she cowered in the corner. Self-hatred filled her, but she feared the pain more than she could hate her cowardice. No longer did she censor her thoughts. She did not care what she was supposed to believe. The master was wrong.

How many days she had spend in darkness, she did not know. Instinct told her it had been too long. Her well-muscled body had begun to waste. Cold and lack of food was beginning to make her ill. The chains locked about her ankle had rubbed her skin raw. This made her fear infection. As her condition worsened, the instinct of self-preservation grew stronger. If she was to survive, she had to do something. That something almost frightened her as much as the pain. Unlike the pain, however, it was a fear she had to conquer or die in the darkness.

With all of her considerable strength, she tried to pry away the metal shackle from her foot. Again and again she had struggled but the band remained stubbornly closed. Even if she was flawed, less that perfect, wrong or whatever the master thought, she wanted to live. She wanted to know more than what the master had placed in her mind. Angrily, she yanked at the chain, where it was attached to the wall. The links clanked and clashed but remained firm. Rage colored her vision red and she kicked and struggled. Metal screamed and fought back. The metal links bit her skin and the skin of her ankle bled. Exhausted, she dropped to the floor.

Panting with exertion, she vainly studied the chain for damage. There was nothing. Wetness dripped down her cheek to land on her hand. She realized she was crying. The tear glistened on her hand and it captivated her attention. Uruk-Hai weren't supposed to cry. Wiping the tear away, she bent to inspect her bleeding ankle. As she did so, her breath caught. The shackle had remained firmly closed but the chain that connected it had begun to part where the final link was closed about the shackle. Frantic with hope, she tried to pry the link open. The strong metal refused to budge. It taunted her with how little it would have to open to mean freedom. Grabbing the chain, she tried pulling but it was fruitless.

Unable to do succeed so close to being free, sent her heart aching. All she was told her to respond with force. Kick, pull and claw her way out but she'd tried that and instinct had given her nothing. The link was twisted. Her hands were strong but not strong enough to twist it further without leverage. Anger flared again but she forced it down. She had to puzzle it out and rage would only distract her. Frowning, she looked back at the chain. Could that provide what she needed. Snarling with the bitter humor of the imprisoning chain being her tool to freedom, she began twisting the chain. Her hands ached and burnt as the cold metal fought her. Twisted tightly, the chain resisted her efforts to turn it further. She knew her reserves were draining fast. Muscles aching she gave a final wrench. With a high pitched 'pling', the link snapped open and the chain fell limp to the floor.

For long moments, she simply stared at the chain. She was free. The idea was astounding. It meant she was leaving. The master would no longer be the master. She'd see the sun and eat food. There would be no more cold or darkness. Dumbstruck, she realized she would need a name. 


	3. Chapter 2

Freedom, she quickly found, was not so easily won. Patrols of orcs loyal to the master, had stood between her and the promise of independence. The creatures were keen of ear and eye but they were not as crafty as she. The magic the master had woven into her creation had made her both strong in battle and stealthy in shadow. It was the knowledge the master had imparted that saved her time and again. Instinct screamed at her to run or battle her way out. It was a dangerous urge and it was exhausting to refuse it. Creeping past patrols and the occasional lone orc, her caution was rewarded as she was able to slip out of the tower.

Outside of the tower, she realized how vulnerable to discovery her naked state made her. While she might be able to pass as an orc or male Uruk-Hai with a covering of some kind, naked she would be easily discovered for what she was. The corpses of great trees and the ramshackle buildings erected by the orcs, gave her cover enough to make her way to a lone orc. The creature was busy mending a leather boot and did not notice her approach. This time she unleashed her instinct. Clawed hands reached out and snapped the orc's neck. Limply the body fell to the earth. Resisting the urge to bellow in triumph, she started the business of stripping the body.

The filthy and tattered garments that the creature wore, were less than pleasant to don, but clean clothing would have been wasted on her filthy body. As it was, the clothing did not fit correctly. She was far taller than the orc neither the tunic nor the leggings were long enough. The roughly made breastplate she discarded. Unlike the clothes, it would not stretch to fit. The sword was another matter. Clumsily made but serviceable, she valued it more than anything provided by the dead orc. Sheathing in its battered scabbard, she hurriedly pulled the orc's boots on and draped the gray cloak about her shoulders and head. The disguise would not pass a careful inspection, but it was hopefully enough. With confident and purposeful strides, she moved through the encampment.

Keeping to cover where she could without looking suspicious, she passed through the army of orcs. Activity around her was frantic and almost compulsive. Forges belched heat and smoke. The sounds of weapons and armor being forged nearly blocked out the sounds of Mordor's black tongue. So intent on their own activities, they had no time to bother with a single orc that seemed to be on an errand. The perimeter guards were harder to fool. 

Without a plausible excuse, they would never let her pass. Pausing behind a tent, she considered the problem. The closer she came to freedom, the more desperate she felt. She didn't think she could stand it if she was discovered so close to her goal. Desperation won out and she moved stealthy towards the perimeter guard that was further away from the encampment than the others. Another broken neck later, she disappeared into what remained of the forest. Once under the cover of the trees, instinct won and she bolted deeper into the woods.

* * *

Her body's urges to rest and find food and water were becoming vicious. She had spent most of the night, and a good part of the day fleeing. Alternating between a walk and a run, she had forced herself onwards. It was becoming painfully clear that she would be able to go no further for a time. Legs aching and weak, she forced herself to the large river she had been following for the last few hours. Crouching down, she dipped her head to the water's surface and began to take great gulps of water. Clear and fresh, the water was icy cold. She did not finish until her stomach was full of the liquid. Never before had she drunk her fill. It was an intoxicating sensation.

With the abundance of water, she was tempted to bathe. The fluid from her birthing had clung unpleasantly to her skin. It had then dried into a foul smelling second skin. Tempting as it would have been to remove it, it was far to close to nightfall. She would not dry in the remaining time, and being damp would tempt exposure. A fire would have been out of the question, even if she knew how to make one.

Weary and footsore, she forced herself up. She would need food and shelter if she were to rest the night. The task of creating a shelter was almost beyond her. A large pine tree with downward sloping branches, had been a welcome discovery. With more branches snapped from another pine, she had created herself a wind proof shelter. She then piled as much leaf litter as she could find, onto the ground. Satisfied with her shelter, she returned to the oak tree she'd noticed. Scrabbling on the ground she searched for acorns. Most were from the previous season, but she didn't care. Bitter and dry, they were unpleasant even to her untutored pallet. The lucky find, of pine nuts were only slightly better.

Stomach growling at the unfamiliar task of digestion, she made her way back to her shelter. Night was beginning to creep through the trees. Tired she lay down in the dry leaves. The unfamiliar sounds of the forest played through her mind and teased her fears. The master would have to know she was gone. Thoughts of pursuit and being caught unaware sent tingles of terror through her. Angrily she thrust those thoughts aside. She had covered her trail and was far away from the master. She was no longer a slave. That thought comforted her and she slipped towards slumber. No, she was not a slave. She was Larza of the forest. Larza the Free.

* * *

Unfamiliar cries woke her. Adrenaline surged through her body and Larza stilled, trying to focus on the danger that had woken her. In the half-light of dawn, her shelter was shadowed. The strange cry sounded again and her skin prickled. It seemed no closer than before but Larza wasn't certain. All the instincts she had been pushing away suddenly rushed up to choke her. Rational thought fled with the third cry. Fear and anger rushed up and with a challenging bellow, Larza burst from her shelter. Her cry echoed through the woods and a dark colored bird uttered a final cry and flew away in a panic.

Thoroughly embarrassed with her foolish reaction, Larza nervously glanced about the woods. Nothing seemed to have heard her clamor but she needed to be sure. Silent through the trees, she circled around the immediate area around her shelter. There was nothing that suggested pursuit and her fears eased. Larza knew that her fears were probably absurd. She had gone to great lengths to obscure her trail. It would take the Master a great deal of effort to locate her. She was safe, at least for now.

Hunger drew her out of her thoughts. There were no more acorns or pine nuts, to her disappointment. Her knowledge contained little information on surviving in the forest. Most of what she knew had to do with killing and obeying the master. The faint tracks on the ground made her think that her knowledge of killing might be useful after all. The rabbit tracks were faint but she quickly found fresher traces. The kinds of traps and snares she knew about were meant for larger more intelligent prey but they would work well enough for rabbits if she made a few adaptations. Several traps later, she was all the more hungry and sweaty. The few wild onions she recognized she ate and tried not to wince at their strong taste.

Water filled the final corners of her stomach. With the sun climbing in the sky, Larza allowed herself a long awaited wash. The water was cold and made her shiver as she scrubbed at her body with a handful of sand. The gritty sand slowly scoured the grime and film of dried slime from her skin. Her hair was determinedly soaked out of its stiff mats. Larza stayed in the water longer than necessary. The cleansing water felt good against her body. Idly she wondered if she stayed long enough, her painful memories would be washed away too. Paddling to the stream bank, she hauled herself up. A lazy glance back at the water made her stiffen in surprise. The sun had moved to strike the water at just the right angle so she could see her reflection. Curious, she leaned over further. Hungry to know more of herself, Larza brushed her dangling hair away from her face.

She'd not seen another Uruk-Hai, although she knew of their existence. The only other beings she had as a basis of comparison were orcs and the master. Her face looked as if it was stuck somewhere in the middle. Her eyes were a sulphurous yellow and shadowed by a high brow. Her strong square jaw and heavy features matched it well. Her lips might be generously named full but her lower incisors jutted prominently from her mouth. Her skin was pale but leathery and resilient to her touch. Larza seemed to instinctively know it wasn't a visage that could be thought of as attractive.

Roughly she threw a lump of dirt into the water, breaking the reflection. Angry, but not really understanding why, Larza hurried back to her shelter. If she planned on staying for a few days, then she had to scout out more food. There wasn't time to worry about trivial things such as her appearance.

* * *

Rage pounded his skull. Saruman strode across the room trying to walk off his anger. The female Uruk-Hai had escaped. Worse, was that there was no possibility of returning her. If he sent troop to capture her, then her existence would be revealed. That would not work in his favor. He could hope that the female would die in the wilderness. Saruman was well aware that the Uruk-Hai knew little of survival skills. The knowledge the female did have would insure she was far from Isengard, but would it would not insure her continued health. That knowledge wasn't sufficient to calm his temper. His magic could find her and obliterate her, but he was unable to do so. With the Fellowship about to leave Lothlorien according to his master's orders, Saruman had to be careful in his use of magic. He would have little power to spare outside of his duties to his master. The concerns raised by the female only reinforced the need for discretion with his magic.

The implication of the defiance in her actions was not lost to him. Quite simply, the Uruk-Hai should not be capable of the slightest hint of disobedience, let alone betrayal. Saruman had spent a great deal of his time and power to ensure absolute control of his creations. His creation's lack loyalty was perhaps the greatest and most immediate danger to him. Why a female had been born remained a mystery, but he could simply dispose of any further such developments. It was unfortunate that freewill could not be so easily dealt with.

The cruelty and cunning of the orcs, made them useful soldiers. Their warped natures, however, extended to their minds. This rendered their minds rather primitive. Saruman had gone to great lengths to make the Uruk-Hai intelligent. That intelligence made them adaptable and able to take the initiative in ways the average orc could not. Now, it seemed that this intelligence would have to be harnessed. Such matters would take consideration. It would be a pity if they thought they could rise up against him. Saruman knew that while the flaws in his creation were a serious matter, they were the least of his concerns.

The concealment of these developments bothered him the most. Saruman knew that this new information would be near impossible to hide from his master. 

Sauron's sight extended over all of Middle Earth. Nothing could be hidden from his gaze... once Sauron knew of it. There in lay Saruman's hope. If his failures remained undiscovered, then his plans were undisturbed. None of the orcs that patrolled Isengard had noticed the female's presence. In other circumstances that would have meant death, but in this case, it was their ignorance that kept them alive. The perimeter guard's death had been ascribed to one of the many feuds that raged within orc ranks. He had taken care of all the remaining evidence, of which there was very little. For now he could only continue to follow his master's orders. Once the Uruk-Hai destroyed the Fellowship and brought the halfling to him, his usefulness to Sauron would be unquestioned. Then he could address the wayward female.

* * *

Raw meat was somewhat unpleasant, Larza quickly found out. In the evening's thickening shadows, she determinedly chewed on the last haunch of rabbit. The flesh was stringy and difficult to chew. Instinct prompted her to enjoy the copper taste of blood and the pulpy flesh in her mouth, but Larza found herself hurrying through her meal. Her instincts were a part of her but did not own her. If she had a fire, she would have happily tried to cook the meat. This was but one of many things that she chose not to follow her instinct's lead in. The most important in her mind had been running from the master. Not following her instincts made things far more uncertain. She was somewhat at a loss as what to do with herself.

Had she been male, she would be fighting her brothers for dominance. She would have donned war paint mixed with the blood of her kills to make her appearance more frightening. She would have obeyed the master's every command. None of that mattered, now. What use did she have of war paint or fighting with nonexistent brothers? What Larza did know, was that she had to keep moving. The threat of being found would never go away. Even now the master could be searching for her. That thought provoked a fierce storm within her. Fear lapped at her heart and Larza had to restrain herself from bolting.

Where would she go? Deeper into the wilds? None of the other races upon Middle Earth would take her in. How well the orcs had insured the hate of the other races. The orcs were truly despised, and with good reason. The race of Men would happily kill her, as would any elf if she intruded. There was also the question of whether she wanted to find other beings. Her heart made a lie of that thought. Larza was painfully aware how alone she was. As chilling as that loneliness was, it was better than the pain the master had inflicted upon her. It was a better fate to be alone, than to be killed or worse at the hands of her brothers.

Burying the bones and bloody hides of the rabbits, Larza returned to her shelter. Night was growing ever dark and she was beginning to desire rest. Slowly she let her mind slip towards sleep. The rhythmic splash of water eased her further into slumber. The sound was soothing and lulled her gently. Circling through her mind, the splashing slowly began to be interpreted. Her body jerked to full consciousness. That noise did not belong either to the forest or the river. After being startled by the bird, Larza had taken care to familiarize herself with the noises around her. This sound was new. Indecision tightened in her bowls for long moments. Finally, Larza slunk from her shelter.

If the master had found her, then she hiding would make no difference. Dying in battle was a far better fate than being murdered as she quivered with cowardice under a tree. Keeping to shadow, Larza moved silently through the forest. The moon's faint glow made the river glow with silver. The molten river made the passage of the boats all the more clear.

Within the boats was the strangest company she could imagine. Two humans, an elf, a dwarf and four small beings that she didn't recognize. What would draw and hold so many different beings together, she could not fathom. From her vantagepoint in a tree, she could clearly see them all. Larza could also hear the order that came from the dark haired human. Her nerves jangled as she realized they planned to disembark on her side of the river. There was no evidence of her presence that would give her away. That was something Larza had been careful to hide. Regardless, she disliked the idea of a heavily armed group close by. Larza felt the urge to run but something kept her sitting in her tree. It was a strange urge. There was no reason for her to stay, indeed it would be wise to leave, but instead of wanting to run she felt the desire to stay.

The group quickly secured the boats and moved further into the forest. Larza followed in the shadows. She watched longingly as they set a fire and began to warm flat loaves of journey bread over the coals. The smell was painfully tempting. As the company ate, Larza glanced at the elf. The golden haired elf seemed uneasy, and Larza drew further back. Somehow she knew he felt her presence. Further away, it was hard to hear their talk. The voices echoed through the trees and tempted her ears. Such companionship was alien and yet it made her loneliness all the more heavy. 

Soon the mismatched company prepared for sleep. Larza was pleased to note that one of the humans stayed awake. Clearly they feared being attacked. That in itself made Larza wonder. Whatever it was that bound an elf and dwarf to journey together, had to be grave indeed. That they posted a guard might not have been unusual except Larza could feel the tension of the group. This was not a guard against the casual dangers of travel. It was a guard against expected trouble.

Mordor was stirring, of that she was irrefutable proof. It was clear that the rest of Middle Earth was not ignorant of the growing threat. Larza shook her head. Her knowledge was sparse on what exactly was stirring in Mordor. Whatever it was, it chilled Larza to think of it. Such thoughts brought back the memories of the pain and fear she'd endured. She was glad that the darkness had not been unnoticed. Wrapping her cloak closer about her against the cold, Larza settled down to watch the strangers through the night. She told herself that she did so because of the threat they posted, rather than curiosity.

The watch changed as the night progressed. She watched as each member of the group took their turn guarding the others. Larza dozed lightly only occasionally, never allowing herself to sleep deeply. By the dawn came, the party roused. With the quickness born of practice, the campsite was packed away. Tracks and other evidence of the passage were professionally erased. Larza knew that within minutes, it would be as if they had never been there. The forest would once again be empty. This distressed Larza more than she cared to admit. 

Something cried out that she could not let the group go. While she had watched over the sleeping group, she had felt a kinship. The mismatched group was tossed to the fates, much as she was. Loneliness sent her heart aching. It was madness to follow. To do so, would be to invite disaster. Thousands of reasons to let the group go, filled her mind. The seething mix of emotions stewing beneath her breast belied her conviction in those reasons. As the last of the party pushed off from the riverbank, hot desperation filled Larza. Heart jumping and starting, Larza found her feet following the small boats. She didn't even understand why the group had so quickly become important to her. Regardless, Larza could not let them leave. Abandoning herself to the overpowering urge to follow, such concerns ceased to matter.


	4. Chapter 3

Part 3

Larza followed the group for three days. Keeping up with the swiftly moving boats and living off little food pushed her dangerously close to collapse, but she refused to stop. She had begun to look forward to the evenings of muted conversation and comfortable comrade between the mismatched group. Sometimes she could almost imagine herself part of the warm circle of companions. Larza had grown bolder over time and had risked keeping closer to their evening fire. All common sense screamed at her to pull back, but Larza soaked up their presence. 

By watching the group, Larza learn a great deal about them. She was also careful to mark their potential threat. All too easily she could be discovered. The elf was by far the greatest threat. His enhanced hearing and sight would pick up her slightest mistake. The dark haired human was the second greatest risk to her discovery. The dark human's ease in the forest marked him as a practiced woodsman. Larza had no desire to test his, or the lighter haired human's skill with the sword. They had spent several evenings teaching the small ones, which she learnt were called hobbits. Watching their mock battles, she had found both humans formidable. She had not seen the dwarf's skill with his axe, but Larza knew he was most likely to be just as dangerous. The hobbits seemed almost out of place beside the warriors. Indeed, the warriors seemed to spend a great deal of effort in making sure they were protected. This seemed strange to Larza. Orcs would quickly kill the weaker or less skilled of their number. The Uruk-Hai were little different. Strangely, the group's care for their smaller members gave Larza hope.

If they cared for those different and weaker than themselves, might they not come to accept her? Certainly her skills as a fighter were considerable. Uruk-Hai were made for battle and were proud of that fact. Larza shook her head. Such thoughts were folly. The other races hated Orcs and she would be killed on sight. Loneliness stabbed through her and she suddenly felt cold. Against her better judgement, Larza moved closer to the group, hiding in a patch of thick bushes. The smells of their cooking made her stomach ache. The berries and nuts she eaten earlier were bulked up by the lucky find of a stranded fish but she still hungered. Repressing the desire, she listened carefully to their talk.

"I fear we must soon come to a decision as to where out travels will lead us come midday tomorrow," the dark haired human was saying.

"All the better when we walk on our own feet, I say. Dwarves were not meant to ride in boats," the dwarf grumbled.

"Have you given thought to our course, Frodo?" the dark haired human asked.

"I have Aragorn, but I fear I am still doubting which is better route. What if I choose wrong? It was my decision to go through Moria and look how-"

"No more of that, my friend. It was not your fault that Gandalf fell. He would not wish you to feel guilt over the matter," Aragorn replied gently.

Larza pondered what she had overheard. It was pleasant to finally have names for some of the group. The conversation had been informative for other reasons, too. If they began travelling by foot, then it would be easier to keep up. This gave her a sense of relief. The Uruk-Hai were made to endure hardship, but Larza had not wish to test her limits the hard way. She also wondered at who this 'Gandalf' might be. The memories that the master had given her had nothing of a 'Gandalf'. Shaking her head, Larza decided to worry about it later. Whoever he was would not trouble her from what Aragorn said.

Making a quick decision, Larza silently pulled away from the small group. Her body cried for rest, but she ignored it. Travel would continue tomorrow and she doubted she would be as lucky as she had been in finding the fish. Moving through the forest like a shadow, Larza sought out the few sources of food she could identify. Acorns and pine nuts were sadly not as plentiful as she could have wished. Larza stripped briar patch of their tangy berries. These she ate right away as they would be easily crushed during travel. Further away she found some withered rosehips. These she tucked away with the acorns and pine nuts. Having exhausted the immediate area, Larza decided to search further afield.

At a slow jog, Larza moved back the way she had come. She remembered passing another briar patch and a large oak not long before the group came ashore. Finding the oak tree, she searched the ground for acorns. This tree was far larger than the small grove near the campsite and she found several handfuls of acorns. The berries were just as plentiful and Larza was grateful. She thought them very tasty. Wandering through the forest, Larza paid little attention to where she was going. Her strong legs had taken her far from where the group camped. It was the sound of a barking laugh that froze her.

Heartbeat thrumming in her ears, her legs locked. Fear howled a cacophony of urgency in her mind but Larza could do nothing but tremble. The master had found her! The sound of orcish laughter was familiar to her ears. He had sent them after all. How foolish she'd been to think herself safe! The surge of terror quickly became a wave of anger. Legs once again obeying her command carried her to the safety of the undergrowth. Cautiously moving forward, Larza crept forward to spy upon the orcs she had heard. They would not catch her ignorant of their presence!

The large forms of her brother Uruk-Hai were strangely compelling. A strange urgency rose up within her, with indescribable force. It told her that her place was with her own kind. The sounds of the black tongue and deep growls called to her most primal instincts. Her hungry eyes drank in forms so similar to her own. Looking upon the other Uruk-Hai, Larza did not feel so strange, or quite so alone. Her place was with her kind, not with elves, men, dwarves or hobbits. Her place was to fight, not hide like a frightened rabbit! Her place was to follow the orders of the master. 

Cold dread drenched her. Shocked, Larza gaped at what she had been thinking. Her place was to be free! The master was wrong! Her 'brothers' would kill her if she stepped forth. The mark of their creator was blazoned on their flesh and they were nothing more than the master's puppets. Memories sodden with suffocating darkness and bone deep pain, rushed through her mind. Lurching and jerking in her chest, her heart beat out a staccato rhythm. How could she have come so close to squandering her freedom?

Sickened by her reactions to the presence of other Uruk-Hai, Larza wished to creep away. She stilled this desire savagely. Cowering would solve nothing. She had to know if they came for her. Long moments passed and she followed the conversations of the group. Little that was said was of use. They spoke of man-flesh, battle and sport. Gleaming in their eyes was unleashed savageness. Was blood and death all they thought of? Larza knew of pain and fear. She had felt it firsthand. Disgust and pity tainted her thoughts. She would be slave to nothing, whether it was the master or her own urges.

She waited nearly an hour before she heard anything of use. The largest Uruk-Hai, the leader of the band, had said little during the evening. He did not join the jest of the others or the squabbling over dried meat. Larza shivered when she watched him. The others dared not defy his authority. Only when the talk of torture became too vivid did he stir.

"Remember the master's orders! Satisfy yourselves with the others but the halflings are to be unspoiled," the leader snarled.

"Why must we not play with the halflings? If we are careful, the master will not know!" one foolish Uruk-Hai boasted.

Viciously, the leader spitted the rebellious Uruk-Hai with a long knife. The others jumped away and regarded him uneasily. With a snarl, the leader pushed the still twitching Uruk-Hai from his blade. The body of the rebel jerked and clutched helplessly at the ground for a time before growing still. The others dared not make a sound. Finally, a low growl issued from the leader's throat. Yellow eyes glared at the rest of the group. Larza could read the challenge in the leader's glare. None of the others dared take it. When the leader resumed his arrogant recline, the group returned to its earlier activities.

Larza left as the lesser orcs began pulling the dead Uruk-Hai into the forest. Their awkwardness in manhandling the body, covered any sounds she made as she retreated. Head spinning with more thoughts than she could track, Larza numbly returned to the small unwitting group. All but the dwarf were sleeping the rest of the travel worn. Their bundled forms were frighteningly vulnerable to Larza. Why did the master want the hobbits? Larza pondered over what she knew. Something about them had to be important to warrant the care of five warriors, and the pursuit of so many Uruk-Hai. Growling softly to herself, Larza pushed those questions out of her mind. Perhaps more importantly, she should be wondering what she would do.

It was inevitable that her 'brothers' would attack the group. Larza doubted that the group could outrun healthy Uruk-Hai for long. The warriors of the group were skilled and strong but they were outnumbered. The knowledge of tactics that had been implanted in her mind, offered Larza a hundred different visions of their deaths at the hands of her kin. Such visions wound through her mind making sticky trails. Death at the hands of her kin would not be easy or painless. The thought of the sport her kin would have, made her stomach clench in unfamiliar and unpleasant ways. Yet, the question remained. What could she do?

The instinct of self-preservation warred with the odd twisting in her guts. She was but one warrior. There was little she could do against the might of the master. Raw anger rose at that thought. Larza swallowed the harsh growl that came with it. She'd escaped the darkness and the torture. The master was *not* infallible. Exactly what she could do, she didn't know but she would help the group. The master would not do what he'd done to her to the hobbits.

* * *

The group's return to the shore was all too soon for Larza's peace of mind. Roaring and sucking, the waterfall had announced its presence from miles away. The currents had also grown stronger, accelerating the speed of the small boats. Keeping up had been difficult but her renewed determination had not failed her. She had also eaten what she had gathered through the day. What energy her body could mine from the tough nuts would be needed soon. Her kin would inevitably find the group now they had stopped. Already scouts had pinpointed the party's location. Larza had watched all this from the protection of the trees.

Watching the group light a fire and rest made her want to growl in frustration. Could they not sense the danger they were in? Ignorant of the threat the woods concealed, one of the hobbits, Frodo, broke away from the group. Prickles of anxiety worked through Larza. Why had they let the hobbit go out alone? For a moment, Larza felt split. She wasn't sure if she should remain watching over the group or follow the hobbit. Instinct told her to let the small creature go. If he did meet danger, then the weak would be culled from the rest. Roughly, Larza shook her head. The group had protected the hobbits. Aragorn, the dark haired human, had looked to this hobbit for advice. She had thrown her lot with the group, although they did not know it and she should act as one of them. Decision made, Larza followed the small form of Frodo.

Long minutes passed as the hobbit wandered. Undetected, Larza followed him. He seemed to have no destination that Larza could perceive. Indeed, the hobbit seemed consumed by his thoughts. Brows furrowed and his shoulders hunched, Frodo emanated waves of distress. Larza felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. She did not know what pressed upon the hobbit's mind, but she understood his despair. It was something she wouldn't wish on the young hobbit.

Larza had just tucked herself behind a particularly bushy fern, when the lighter haired human approached the hobbit. Although the human also seemed preoccupied, he was far more aware of his surroundings than the hobbit. He was also a greater threat, if he discovered her. Larza silently pulled back deeper into the forest. Reassured that the hobbit was protected, she decided to return to the rest of the group. Moving from patch to patch of cover, her return was halted by loud voices. Instantly she recognized the voices of the human and the hobbit.

To her astonishment, the human and the hobbit were struggling with each other. Bewildered, Larza wondered if humans and hobbits fought for dominance like Uruk-Hai. Should she intervene? Before she could decide the hobbit vanished. Barely able to stifle her bark of astonishment, Larza found her eyes riveted on where Frodo had once been. The human yelled out but she wasn't paying his words any attention. Fear prickled up her spine. Did the hobbit have powers like the master? She did not think so but how could she be sure? Flicking her eyes to the human she gasped. He was sobbing!

Anguish and shame carved their presence upon the human's face. Amazed, Larza watched. He called out to the absent hobbit and cried out his sorrow. Such rawness of emotion almost frightened her, yet she was rooted to the spot. No Uruk-Hai would dare show such vulnerability. Death would quickly follow any such weakness. The undiluted strength of the human's emotions was astounding. A kindred flame ignited in Larza. These emotions she understood too. She had felt bone deep shame and sorrow. As she watched the human, she noticed the shame transform to determination. That too she understood.

Transfixed by the man's outpouring, Larza had missed the sound of heavy booted feet and the first clash of metal against metal. The loud war-cry of the Uruk-Hai answered by a strident shout from an elven throat woke Larza to danger. Spasmodically, her hand clutched at her sword. Her kin had made their attack. Horror drenched her in cold sweat as Larza realized the small hobbit that the man had tackled had run off alone. Her first impulse was to run and hide but she controlled it. The man unsheathed his sword, roughly wiping away his tears. He hurried away and Larza made up her mind to follow.

Both she and the man met the large forms of the other Uruk-Hai as the pressed deeper into the forest. Larza kept to the shadows and the trees but seeing battle before her, her blood heated. Stealthily, Larza drew her sword and crept behind one of the Uruk-Hai. A strategic swipe with her sword and the male's head rolled to the ground. Baring her teeth, Larza gave a low growl of satisfaction. This was what she was made to do! This time Larza dared to leave the shadows as she followed the human. Chaos allowed her to strike while remaining mostly undetected. Several times her brothers saw her before she delivered a fatal blow. Their stunned and angry expressions made her snarl with ill-contained derision. Slaves that they were, they could not even comprehend freedom. 

While she was preoccupied with her last kill, the man had stopped his frantic search. About him were the piled corpses of her brother Uruk-Hai. The littered the clearing's floor like wind tossed leaves. Nestled within a thick clump of bushes, Larza could not help but be impressed. Such a warrior was worthy of her respect.

Two smaller forms stood behind the man. They were like rabbits- stunned with fear. More Uruk-Hai faced off against the man and the hobbits still did not move. Why did they not run? Larza shook her head. Mighty as the man warrior was, he could not hold against his foes. He too seemed to realize this and blew upon the horn at his waist. Surely the others of his group would come? Uncomfortable moments passed and still none of the others came. Larza fingered her sword. Even as she watched the man began to tire. Desperation worked icy tendrils through her belly. She itched to leap from behind the trees and do real battle but she did not dare. If she revealed herself, it would be death at either the hands of her brothers or at the hands of the man's companions. 

Much to her horror, the bulky form of the Uruk-Hai's leader stalked into view. The large male sneered at the pile of fallen Uruk-Hai. Casually, he drew his bow back and with relish he took aim at the man. Larza felt her insides clench and twist. The arrow was loosened before she could even blink. A meaty thunk told her it had met its mark. The scent of man blood hit the air. Rage and frustration rose up in Larza.

She wouldn't let the master win! She'd sworn they would not take the hobbits. Memories of her pain and humiliation rose up and choked her with her own cowardice. Another wet sound of flesh being pierced made her see red. Never again! With a primal roar, Larza leapt from her hiding place. The timber of her bellow was a challenge to all that heard it. Immediately, the leader's gaze snapped towards her. The amazement in his eyes was quickly stifled with disdain and anger.

"Challenge! Challenge, snaga (slave)!" Larza grated out in the tongue of Mordor.

The Uruk-Hai paused in their battle. They were stunned by both the appearance of a female of their kind and that a challenge has been issued at such a time. A few snarls resounded in the clearing but that was all. By their own custom, they could not interfere, no matter what. The man regarded her with pain glazed eyes. Confusion was in them but he seemed to steel himself for another attack. Clearly, he could not understand what was being said. Larza quickly turned her attention back to the leader. He had dropped his bow and had taken out his sword. His eyes were hard with anger. By issuing a challenge, he would have to defend his position. If he didn't, he would loose status and the rest of the Uruk-Hai would descend upon him like wargs.

"Who challenges Lurtz!"

"Larza!"

"Hope I kill you female, or you will entertain us with your screams tonight!"

Lurtz hurled himself at her. A heavy blow that could have split her in two streaked from above. Larza dodged away, hoping to catch the Uruk-Hai before he could recover but Lurtz was crafty. Just as she thrust at his exposed side he turned his blade mid swing. Larza caught it with her own blade. For a moment they tested each others strength. The male snarled at her, after finding that they were evenly matched. Only Larza knew that she could not sustain such an effort for long. Still, she refused to back down. Larza hissed with spite, barely reining in the desire to forsake her sword and gouge at him with her claws. Did he think she would shrink back? She had faced the master's wrath! She would not shrink from one of his slaves. 

Swiftly, Larza pulled away from their futile lock and attacked. Their swords met with the scream of ill-made steel. Again and again they lunged and twisted, hoping to catch the other off guard. The male was strong and skilled. He was also fresh and had not endured the trials she had recently experienced. Larza could feel her stamina begin to fade. She would surely die if she could not end their contest.

Lurtz blocked the attack she made to the left, but already preoccupied could not counter the kick she let loose to his knee. The blow landed and was strong enough to negate the protection offered by the male's armor. Her pleasure at her successful attack vanished as his blade slid down her arm with vengeful might. The wound was less than nothing as she reveled in battle fever. Lurtz's backpedaled as he struggled to regain his balance, his knee not supporting his weight. Viciously she struck again and again. The male endeavored to meet her blows but he was pushed back. Tasting victory she bared her fangs in delight. Her sword leapt forth hungrily and she cleaved him from shoulder to hip. The leader's flesh sucked at her sword as she pulled it free. Glaring at the other Uruk-Hai she roared her triumph and dared them to attack her.

Uneasily they backed away. Larza growled as they loped off. Swiftly she turned her attention back to the man. He tottered unsteadily on his feet but the number of fallen Uruk-Hai at his feet had increased. To her fury, the hobbits were gone. The fight had lasted mere moments, but as she had fought the hobbits had been taken. Rage tore through her and Larza slashed her sword at the trunk of a nearby tree. The man raised his sword awkwardly. Larza snarled. She had saved his pathetic life and he would raise his sword to her? Angrily, she parried his blade and swept his feet from under him.

"Can't you discern friend from foe?" Larza growled in Westron.

"Lying beast!" the warrior panted.

"Lie still, fool man."

The race of Man was fragile and easily harmed compared to the Uruk-Hai. One of her kind might shrug off two arrow wounds if properly treated but Larza knew the warrior was badly injured for a man. That was the only reason she did not follow her instinct to beat curtsey into the warrior. Rifling through the small sack of field provisions Lurtz had carried, Larza took out a small leather bag. The knowledge that had been imparted in her mind told her exactly what she would find and how to use it. Larza quickly opened the bag. Inside was a black resinous tar. It stank of rot and something unpleasantly sharp. Larza turned back to the man to find he'd ignored her order and was struggling to rise. Crossly she pinned the man, with a knee to his chest.

"You'll die if your wounds are not... attended," Larza said, struggling with both the newness of speaking.

"How do I not know you'd poison me?"

To that, Larza took out the thick tar and spread it over her wound. It stung for a moment and then numbed. The master had created no small number of foul things to aid his newly birthed soldiers. The tar would help heal the man if he would allow it.

"It will help," Larza replied awkwardly.

"Who or what are you that you would do this?"

Larza took that as a yes. As quickly as she could, she pulled the arrows from the man's chest, not bothering to answer his question. She doubted he would believe her, anyway. His pained howl echoed off the trees. Blood welled up in thick rivers where the arrows had been removed. This surprised Larza a little. Uruk-Hai did not bleed like that. Hurriedly, she smeared the tar over the man's wounds. Then she ripped off the hem of her cloak as a bandage. Tossing aside her sword, she put pressure upon the wounds. Just as the bleeding slowed a blow from behind took her by surprise.


End file.
